But Gianna's eyes are still red. Still swollen. And Oliver is looking at me with that expression he gets when he knows I'm about to do something stupid like sacrifice my own happiness for everyone else's.
"Fine," I say.
Gianna's face lights up. "Really?"
"Really. Go get dressed."
She throws her arms around me. Squeezes tight. "Thank you, Nell. Thank you."
Then she's gone. Running down the hallway to her room. Her footsteps echo on the hardwood floors.
Oliver watches her go. Then turns back to me.
"You're a good sister," he says.
"I'm a tired sister."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive." He picks up his jacket from where he tossed it on my bed. Shrugs it on. "I'll be in the car. Take your time."
"Oliver."
He stops at the door. Looks back.
I take a breath. "Tomorrow. The wedding."
His expression shifts. Softens.
"I want you there," I say. "But I don't know if you want to be part of a mobster wedding."
"I'll be there," he says.
"You don't have to. I know it's dangerous. I know the Sartoris are?—"
"Nell." He crosses back to me. Takes my hands in his. "I've been your best friend for years. I was there when you broke your arm falling off the monkey bars. I was there when your mom got diagnosed. I was there when she died. I was there through every single terrible thing your father has put you through."
His grip tightens.
"You think I'm going to miss it because some mobsters might give me dirty looks?" He shakes his head. "I'll be there. Front row. Probably crying. Definitely judging the flower arrangements."
A laugh escapes me. Wet. Broken. "There won't be flower arrangements. They said it's small. Family only."
"Then I'll judge the lack of flower arrangements." He pulls me into a hug. Holds me close. "You're not alone in this, Nell. You never have been. You never will be."
I press my face into his shoulder. Let myself feel, just for a moment, like everything might be okay.
It won't be. I know that.
But right now, in this moment, with Oliver's arms around me and Gianna's excited footsteps echoing down the hall, I can pretend.
"Thank you," I whisper.
"Always." He pulls back. Wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Now go put on something that isn't covered in lint from your sweaters. We have a possessed doll to watch."
I laugh again. Stronger this time.
"Give me ten minutes."
"I'll give you fifteen. But only because I love you."